New Shoes
by Vbabe11
Summary: Woo! DONE! One event and five chapters looking at Helga's life during her Senior Year. Each chapter focusing on a different relationship. HxA PxG ect. Not a hard read- please review.
1. Love Love Love More Love

Chapter 1- Love Love Love, More Love

Chapter 1- Love Love Love, More Love

Dear Baby Sister,

I'm having a wonderful time here with my new lovely dovey sweetie cake husband/Prince here in the Bahamas. Thank you so much for the gift you gave us just before we left. You're right- the green in the painting goes right along with the stain on the couch. You're always so bright about these things. Anyway, seeing it hang on my wall made me think of you and all your wonderful skills as an artist. I know that mummy and daddy-kins don't always see that but I'm sure they try. Later, as I was looking out with my darling hubby-kins over the shimmering sea at dusk, surrounded by fireflies and exotic flowers, I thought of how I would love love love to see you just as happy as I am. So, I am sending you a little extra money so that you can get yourself a new outfit for your big party next week that you wrote me about. But you have to promise me you'll use it on something you _want_ this time. This will just be a special gift from me to you, my darling baby sister.

Love love love,

More love,

Olga XOXOXOXOXO

She had enclosed a hundred bucks. Helga's first thought was to throw out the rest of the letter and buy herself a new bookshelf- her old one was coming apart. And she needed it for when she went to college in six months. Olga would never find out what it had been used for and Helga didn't often get clumps of money from out of nowhere often. It would happen when Bob or Merriam would throw some cash at her when they felt guilty but Helga would do the same with that money that she did with the rest of her profit- into a savings account she had been keeping up since she was a freshman.

Ever since she entered high school Helga knew it was time to start preparing to fly the coop. She couldn't get a real job until she was 16 but until then she did after-school projects and got paid under the table. The week after she turned 16 she took the job she had been waiting for over at Dolly's Restaurant. Sure, the skates hurt at first but it was the only place she could make a lot of dough, make her own hours, and keep her attitude. It also didn't hurt they let her feed herself. The less she had to cook for herself or eat anything her so-called mother made, the better. Best of all, she had the opportunity to see her friends, at least one of whom would come by almost every night.

Next weekend however, she had gotten a Friday off to go to Rhonda's Birthday Sware. Apparently it was going to be a big deal. Who knew turning 18 would make the world go round? It was their last year together as well so it felt as though every party would be their last. It didn't hurt that Rhonda- the wealthiest girl in school, really knew how to throw one.

Helga didn't quite remember telling Olga about this party (or that it was at all important to her,) but she was glad she had. A hundred bucks in twenties sat on her dresser next to the pink frilly letter her sister had written.

Helga grinned at the thought of a nice big cherry wood bookshelf sitting happily in her future apartment. But then those words popped up from the rest of the cursive handwriting, "promise me you'll use it on something you _want_".

She rolled her eyes. Helga really didn't _want _that much. Her desire to get out of the Pataki home had been her ironclad goal for so long anything else seemed like a waste of time. Unfortunately, at that moment, the image of Arnold rolled around in her brain. The picture of herself wandering into Rhonda's huge living room in a brand new outfit- cute enough to make him fall madly in love with her at first sight- displayed itself deliciously in her head.

She sighed as she rolled one of the bills around her fingers. Olga _did _make her promise. And she_ was_ trying to be nice. Why not let her do something right for a change? Helga deserved a bit of fun at someone else's expense at last. And really, it would be a pain to have to lug that huge bookshelf from here all the way to NYU…


	2. Whatever you think is best

Chapter 2- Whatever you think is Best

Chapter 2- Whatever you think is Best.

They had two weeks to go shopping but Helga had put it off until only the Saturday before so that her best friend Phoebe would not have Cram school when they went. Phoebe waited for her outside of Dr. Bliss's building so they could take the subway over to the main shopping district right after her appointment. The two girls had shopped here in the past and knew which stores were too pricy and which were not their style. Phoebe often came here with her mother when she was on a shopping kick and would sometimes pick out something for Helga. She knew her tastes pretty well and over time, Phoebe had weaned Helga into a prettier state of mind without losing her vital sense of individuality.

On a day-to-day basis, Helga wore the same things. At school she wore jeans and pink sneakers, a pink v-neck Cambridge style sweater with an orange stripe across the middle and a plain white shirt underneath. At work she the same thing but a white apron laid on top with her hair pulled back into a ponytail. These days, the ribbon she once wore as a bow along with two big ponytails had transformed into a headband with her long blond hair down. Phoebe was quite proud of the transformation. Helga was no beauty like her sister but her look had begun to reflect the intelligent person Dr. Bliss had been bringing out.

Phoebe smiled as she held up another pale blue skirt up to herself.

"So'desu ne? What do you think?" Helga called in Japanese.

"'Ah! Kawaii Helga! I like it! Where did you find it?'" She hung the skirt up to admire the fabric of the number Helga had stepped out of the tiny dressing room with.

"'Just over there under a bunch of other things. I dunno. Is it too casual?'"

The little Japanese girl pinched the extra fabric around the model's waist and reverted back to english.

"No. I don't think so. I think it would work with the right shoes. And I could take in the sides it you want. Then it wouldn't look so flat."

"Take it in all you want but do I HAVE to go the shoe store? That place gives me the creeps."

"It won't take long Helga, I promise." Phoebe stepped back as Helga retreated into the booth.

"Fine, but if you can, I want this dress done by Monday. I don't have time to go to your house a million times before Friday. I'm still wearing the ribbon. This isn't Prom for cripes Sake."

"Of course Helga."

She came out in her normal clothes with the dress slung over her arm and a grimace on her face.

"You ready?" She paid for the outfit and tossed the bag over her shoulder as Phoebe steered them toward the street.

They wove their way up and down the avenues going from one boutique to the next until Phoebe had her dress and all that was left was the shoe pavilion. Helga fought it at first but upon reflecting what she had left in her closest, was forced to give up and admit- she had nothing nice left. At least nothing that fit her. In the past she mainly had worn tennis shoes. She wore each pair until the soles broke apart and she was forced to go buy new ones. Each time she knew pretty much what she wanted- something simple, most likely white so she could bleach it with the rest of her things. She had a pair of high heals from her sister's wedding but they were ridiculously gaudy and not to mention bright yellow. Helga had burned them the moment they came off her feet. They were plastic so she couldn't even have dyed them another color. Yet as she trudged up and down the long rows of footwear, she didn't regret the decision to anyalate them. However, she was not above complaining while they shopped.

"Ug. This is so stupid. What's Madam Lloyd's deal making this into a big thing anyway? I'm about to turn 18 but I'm not making everyone get all dressed up."

"Oh Helga, I'm sure it will be fun!"

"Yeah yeah. You're only saying that because you're going with Tall…your boyfriend." Helga remembered she was trying not to insult her little friend's beau anymore. Phoebe had not asked her to do this but was highly grateful for the effort. She couldn't help but smile meekly as she lifted up a pair on display.

"He's DJing for Rhonda so I know he won't have much time for me."

"Oh I see. You're just going as eye-candy? Pft. I can't believe girls do that."

"We all do it sometimes, if it's for someone you really like. A little effort is often well received by a majority of the male sex. Even if it's only a little."

"You think?" Helga pondered this. "Well then… guys are dumber than I thought. Who wants an empty headed debutant anyway? Excepting you, Pheebs. You're just lucky you're smart and cute." Helga backtracked looking out of the corner of her eye sheepishly. Her friend carelessly waved away the slight.

"I know what you mean... What do you think about these?"

"I don't like the big bow on front. But red is a good idea…"

Their search continued. Sorting through pair after pair, Helga was reminded of another reason why she hated doing this.

It wasn't until her friend was wandering the other side of the store did Helga see them. A fairly simple pair of dark red heals. The color matched her new dress attractively so they wouldn't stand out. But the thing that caught her eye was the long ribbon attached to the back. Carefully, she browsed for the size she needed and sat with the box on her lap. With an extra ounce of indifference, she glanced around the near-empty shop. Once the coast was clear of any witnesses, in a flash she had slipped the left shoe on and wrapped the dainty ribbons around and around her leg. It crossed in a delicate X just above her ankle and tied in a small bow behind her calf. After staring at them for a moment she brought a finger to the velvety fabric. They were perfect.

She stood on the shoed foot and gazed at it in the floor mirror. It was some kind of miracle. Her foot looked small and charming. Her leg looked somehow longer and her toes seemed to smile up at her. She smiled back.

"Helga? Where are you?"

In a practiced flash Helga had zapped the shoes back in the box and closed the lid before being found.

"If you want to, I think there's another store we could look at just down the block."

Helga rushed through her lie. "No, no That's OK. I think I'm too tired to keep up this silly shopping thing. I may as well get these and be on my way considering they ARE my size and it's on sale so, why the heck not? I mean right? Anyway I'll just go buy these and we can get OUT of this estrogen den." Helga shoved the box over the counter.

Phoebe smiled. "What ever you think is best."

The blond girl sneered at the chubby cashier. "Move it along bucko."

Phoebe had to remember that her friend was most rude when confronted, hiding something, and particularly if she was uncomfortable. While she couldn't imagine what could have turned her friend to her old ways, she just chalked it up to something having to do with Helga's crush again and waited outside for her to finish paying. As she had expected, when she finally joined her on the street with the crisp bags of fresh smelling clothes, she seemed considerably calmer even if her blue eyes did shift back and forth to make sure they weren't being followed.

"If we go to your place we can grab lunch there. You didn't make tuna again, did you?"

"I don't believe so…" She patiently considered. "I wanted to check with you first before I prepared anything. But I have peanut butter, ham, at least four types of bread, or if you want, we could make salads, or hotdogs, or I have swiss, cheddar, pimento-"

"No Phoebe." Helga stopped and fiddled with the strings of her new bag. "Uh, Olga gave me enough, why don't I treat you today?" Phoebe stopped too.

"Gosh Helga…That's…I mean, I don't know where to go." They both tried to act natural.

"What about...what about that one place you were telling me about yesterday? Marachinos?"

Phoebe blushed and smiled up at her. She remembered? "Mario's? That sounds…perfect."

"I know... Well let's go, I'm starving here." Helga linked their arms and pushed forward. When Phoebe felt the pull on her arm she followed most willingly. She'd go where Helga went. She would do what Helga asked. Helga loved her just the way she was. And for that, Phoebe would do anything.

"Coming!"


	3. That really bites

Oi

Oi! It's Tuesday! And that means- another crappy chapter is here! I don't like this one nearly as much as the rest I think…Do try to enjoy it anyway.

Chapter 3- That really Bites

Phoebe brought her dress by on Monday morning before school started so they could walk together as per their usual routine. Helga grabbed it from her and ran upstairs shouting she'd just throw it on her bed and they would be off. Her first instinct really was to toss in on the floor but at the sight of the stripped shoebox peeking out from under her bed, she carefully laid the garment out so she wouldn't create any more wrinkles making obvious the efforts her friend had made to iron out all the kinks.

The image of herself in its colors and the red shoes haunted her throughout the school day. She even tried to doodle what she would look like on the back of a handout but the picture made her pessimistic about her prospects so she tucked it away. She tried not to think about it at work and on the subway ride home late that night.

But when she came home she instantly dropped her backpack and dirty apron on the floor and made a beeline to where she had laid the objects of her distraction.

She sat next to the dress on her bed. She could try it on. She tired to remember how she looked in the store mirror in all its rosy glory with those red shoes benith. It was much more feminine than anything else she owned and she wondered for an instant if she had made a mistake. Plopping on her bed she felt a headache coming on. It was late. She _couldn't_ try them on now. What if the way she really looked was more like what she drew on the back on her ditto than the beauty dancing with Arnold in her head? Too many times she had built up her dreams of romance just to have them dashed by a series of strange coincidences and wacky happenings.

She'd best not chance it. She _wouldn't_ try them on and tempt doubt prematurely. It was Monday now and the party was on Friday. Four more days wouldn't make a big difference. This was the outfit she had chosen and who cared if it wasn't perfect? Not her. She was only going for those mini wieners anyway.

She arranged the dress on a hanger and placed it in her wardrobe. She kicked the shoebox probably with a little more force than necessary under her bed. She wouldn't even look at them until Friday to save her all this worry and went to brush her teeth.

Tuesday was much better than Monday. With a firm ambition in place, she worked very hard to keep everything off her mind. But that night when she at last planted her head on the pillows, she could feel the box under her bed like a lump in her sheets. And the sleeve of her dress peaked out at her from across the room. It seemed to glow in the dark. So Helga wrapped her head up in the thick covers and willed herself to sleep.

Wednesday was worse. Everyone in their class was invited to Rhonda's party and as the week was coming to a close, the buzz among her classmates in the hallway, in the lunchroom, and even in classes themselves was unstoppable.

Helga was firm in her resolution to shun excitement. They all went to parties all the time, what made this any different? Sure, none of them had an elevated dress-code, and normally the guest list wasn't quite so exclusive, and this was obviously one of their last bashes together before the school work really picked up, and Rhonda HAD personally handed out invitations a month ago- but really? What was the big deal?

"Oh yes, I'm quite certain I saw something like that as well! I've heard that Rhonda has gone all out this year. It's like a pre-prom bash!" Lyla gripped her books to her chest as she leaned against the wall of the girl's locker room post-gym.

Helga shoved her socks into her locker. "Don't you think a 'pre-prom bash' should happen just BEFORE Prom? And I bet Miss Lloyd is planning one of them too."

Another girl approached swinging her long braids behind her. "I've already picked out what I'm wearing." Helga flinched.

"YOU Nadine? But you don't care about fashion." This was common knowledge.

"I couldn't help myself I guess." She grinned and shrugged as the conversation ran on. "It's pretty cute." While she elaborated on the make and style using her hands to show the cut, Helga tried to ignore the image.

"Ah! That sounds so cute! I'm ever so positive you'll look just ever so darling."

"Do you have a date Lila?" Sheena's high-pitched loving voice was muffled through her shirt-which she had just gotten tangled over her head. She would never be a socially graceful girl. Without looking up, Helga reached out and yanked it down the rest of the way. Sheena gasped for air and blinked looking for her rescuer.

"Well Park did ask if I would go with him but I think it would be best if we all just had fun together this time." Lila beamed and twirled around in her plaid jumper. "I am so excited! What about you Helga?"

"What are yah' talking about? I'm going stag of course." She stood up proudly.

A few years ago, someone would have asked her why, again, she had refused to have a steady date. After a while however, most people stopped asking. Helga never went with anyone if she could avoid it. She did date but she never accepted boyfriends- even if they begged. And they did beg from time to time. Many kids saw her out on a date at the park, eating ice cream, or playing miniature golf but no man ever seemed to stick for a more permanent stay. When really pressured one slumber party, she finally admitted the fact that she had been 'waiting for the right one' and when he came, "I'll know it." she professed. The additional threat on your life also ebbed the tide of questions launched at her. So it came as no great surprise that she would be attending alone. It didn't mean she hadn't been asked, which saved her from embarrassment of answering. Helga was a slave to no one's opinion. As they all grew up together they began to respect and envy her for it: if only they could as free from the world's judgment.

In a way, she had changed them. In a way, she had set them free. If Helga had no fear, then maybe they could too. Helga never truthfully cared about what anyone wore, where they were from, or how wealthy they were. She treated everyone with the same callous manner. And deep down they all knew she was a friend. So many of the girls in her circle were known for genuinely overlooking flaws in others. Even if she were still a little rough to be around, she had the most sincere friends of anyone.

"Helga, you simply _must_ braid your hair like that on Friday. I want to pull mine back for my BIG PARTY. You all are coming of course?" Rohnda came around the corner and wrapped her arm around her best friends waist in a flourish that screamed "faux debutaunt". She hadn't changed one bit- She was still queen bee. Helga rolled her eyes privately.

"Gee- thanks but I already know what I'm doing with my hair. I gotta get going." She lugged her backpack onto her shoulder trying to escape the inevitable onslaught of gab about this party she was _trying_ to forget.

"See yah Helga! Ok, Bye! Later!" The girls replied waving slightly in their own special ways. She waved half-heartedly back. They liked her.

If Wednesday was bad, Thursday was terrible. Miss Lloyd herself was spreading around the excitement. She had ordered three more ice sculptures, two more Cake trays, and five more fire dancers. Now it seemed that everyone on campus was going even if she continued to insist that only upper classmen had been invited and would be allowed in.

Helga could have sworn that even table six at the restaurant that night, (full of freshmen, of course) were gabbing about it.

"I wouldn't go even if she did let us in."

"Are you insane? It's going to be so much fun! Hot older guys, and all those beautiful upper classmen girls will be there. It's like watching the red carpet! I wanna go so bad."

"Red Carpet?" Helga repeated bemused.

"Oh sorry, I'll have a triple fudge Sunday please."

"Sister, if you're trying to get to the red carpet your ordering the wrong desert." Helga scoffed as she wrote their purchase down. If just ONE MORE PERSON mentioned that stupid party-

"Oi, Helga! I wanna eat already!" She sighed and pushed off to the next table, skidded to a halt in front of three of her classmates, and prayed silently they wouldn't make her kick them.

She growled, "Yeah yeah I'm coming fatboy. Ok losers, what do you want? And if you don't tip well I spit in what ever you got."

Sid figured it out first. "How will you know how well we tip until after you bring our food?"

"Well then, you'd better tip now." She grinned sweetly at Stinky with a pen poised in her fingers. He blushed.

"That really bites."


	4. Real Proud O'You Girl

Chapter 4- Real proud O'you Girl

Chapter 4- Real proud O'you Girl

Friday finally came after a night of tossing and turning.

The morning, school, and the walk home all came as a blur. She didn't think it was possible but all day she couldn't hear any of her classmates gushing about this and that because that space in her brain was occupied by nervous thought. She mechanically made small talk and seemed to be listening, but it was as though she were floating through a dream that afternoon.

The air outside tasted sweeter that day.

The sky was clearer and the temperature was more comfortable than it had been in weeks.

"Perfect weather for chatting on my huge lanai." said Rhonda suggestively. Even she was in more of a giddy mood than usual.

Helga didn't even remember saying goodbye to Phoebe at the end of school or agreeing to see her there at eight o'clock, but it must have happened because the next thing she knew she was sitting on her bed watching the clock. In three more hours she could start getting ready. She made a mental checklist of everything that she wanted to do and how long it would take. Along with her 'no overexcitement' policy, came the necessity not to be ready too early. But what could she do in the meantime? The teachers hadn't given her any homework; she had already washed her apron and cleaned her room the night before so she wouldn't have to do it today. It slowly dawned on her that she had inadvertently over prepared anyway.

Frustrated, she threw herself back onto her bed letting her hair fly behind her. The box still hidden under her bed could still be felt like the Princess and the Pea. She had to get out of here. Maybe eat some early dinner and watch the end of a movie on TV.

The kitchen was a mess as usual so while the mini TV in the refrigerator played out "Miss Congeniality", Helga swept, mopped, washed, dried, and tidied up the kitchen. She prepared and left simple pasta in a pot on low- she knew Bob would be hungry soon and Miriam rarely cooked this late in the evening. Even if she had, Helga doubted anyone would want to eat it. So, as per her usual routine, she made three times as much as she could eat and left the clean plates and forks on the counter so no one would attempt to prepare anything else. The movie had finished so Helga scooped up a plate of her own concoction, took a soda from the fridge, and headed upstairs to eat in her room. As she stomped up stairs she mused that eating as a family had long ago lost it's meaning but it still made her feel better to know at least they all ate the same thing… and cooking for them once in a while wasn't so bad. It was a bitter unspoken "I love you." At least she was practicing for a bachelor's life.

Showered, shaved, dusted, and dry, she slipped the dress at last over her head and let it fall perfectly around her. A mirror showed a slim and tall, beauty. The soft blond hair swaying behind her curling at the ends to give a subtle added delicacy. The girl twisted left and then right to see how it flowed around her knees and to feel how it gently traversed over her soft calf's skin. Phoebe had taken in the waist so a beautiful bend between her hips and her torso made her stand like a woman.

Now for the shoes. Helga crouched on the floor by her bed and reached out beyond the dirty socks and private worshiping materials until her finger found the purple striped box and pulled it out. She sat on the edge of her bed and carefully pulled back the lid. They were brighter than she remembered. Like diapering a baby, with as gentle a firm hand as she could manage, she slipped them on her feet and laced up the silky ribbons. She stood unsure on her feet and looked into the mirror at herself. She stared at the reflection.

She didn't dare think anything. But went to the bathroom and slipped the last piece over her head, a ribbon set far back on her head made her into Helga once more. Not that girl standing in red shoes. No way.

Since she had gotten home she had not been heard from. At this time she leaned out of her bedroom and shouted coming down the stairs,

"Merriam! You said I could use your Tanzanite and gold necklace. Where IS IT?"

Her mother got groggily up from the floor behind the couch. "What sweetie?"

"Your necklace? It's not in your room." Helga tapped her foot. It felt so good in the soft fabric lining.

"Oh sorry sweetie, my necklace…I took it out for cleaning uh- Try my clothes."

"You mean the laundry room?"

Her mother's speech was lazy and staccato. Her hair hung in overcast-blond wisps around her face. She was getting old and her sleeping habits were getting worse. That's why, in her spare time, Helga was helping her mother with something special she hoped to achieve before she moved out.

"Oh yeah! Sure you can….try there." Helga rolled her eyes and went without another word. After a brief search she found the gold chain hanging from the shelf with a bottle of uncapped bleach. Still, the jewelry didn't look as though it had been touched. She corked it calling over her shoulder.

"You know, they make cleaning solution for these things. It's not a good idea to wash it yourself."

"Oh, Ok hunny." Miriam appeared behind her in the wrinkled lavender housedress she always wore. She jumped, almost bumping into her daughter who was now almost her own height. Helga jumped too. She would have just busted past her if her mother were not giving her a strange look.

"Let me help you with that." She held out her hand for the necklace still giving her that dazed expression. Now, Miriam normally looked out of touch with reality but this look was different. It was wide awake but not in the room at the same time. It was as though when she looked at Helga she was seeing something very different. The younger girl warily gave up the necklace and turned around.

"That's a pretty dress. Where did you get it?"

"I dunno. I found it with Phoebe last week."

"Oh..." Miriam seemed to be taking her sweet time unhooking the clasp. With her back turned, Helga couldn't have known her mother was partially not paying attention and partially stalling for time. "How is Phoebe?"

"I don't know. She's good I guess."

"I like that ribbon in your hair. It makes you look… lady like." She ran a hand through Helga's hair like it was a fine silk now completely forgetting about the necklace.

Helga tried desperately not to remind her she had been wearing the same ribbon since she was five. Sometimes she spitefully thought her mother suffered an early form of Alzheimer's disease. But really Helga understood that Merriam just needed to be active again and to hone her creative abilities. Just like her. She needed some outlet. Luckily, Helga had Arnold, Phoebe, and Dr. Bliss for that. She wondered transitionally if her mother had once been as obsessed with Bob as she was with Arnold. The idea whisked from her mind as quickly as it had come. There were many things that tied her to her mother but that was just not possible.

Breaking the pause Helga asked, "Do you need help Miriam?"

"No, no, I got it."

Click, whip, and clack, in seconds she expertly clipped it behind her neck and let her daughter tromp past.

Helga hesitated at her bedroom doorway and called downstairs, "Mom, did you fill out that form I left for you on your nightstand?"

"What?" came a weak answer.

"That package of information for the hiring agency. Did you fill it out?"

"I think so dear…I was wondering if you could-"

"Yeah, I'll look it over when I come home tonight OK? Just leave it outside your room so I won't have to wake you up."

"Where are you going dear?"

It was getting a little silly standing at the top of the stairs like this so she decided to grab her things to go- and didn't answer. If it were important enough, she'd ask again.

Helga took her purse and filled it with all the vitals- wallet, keys, cell phone (fully charged), chapstick/gloss, and a little bottle of aspirin. When she first started her job she found she needed it often. Although as she shook it from side to side she realized she hadn't had to fill it in quite some time. Not diving physiologically any deeper as to its meaning, she shrugged internally and tossed its contents into the bag and slung the bag over her shoulder.

Instead of clattering down the stairs as usual, she had to be careful and take it one step at a time. Her shoes wouldn't allow her to lose balance for long so she took each stair with pride.

"OK, I'm going now!"

"Whoa whoa whoa get your kester back here, where do you think you're going?" The booming sound of her father's voice came from the trophy room. She couldn't help but pass it on her way to the front door so she stopped under its curved passageway to face him.

"Tuh, like you care." She meant to say it a little more quietly but Bob stood up and stomped over to her from the couch where he had been lounging. It took more effort these days for Bob to stand up. As much as he tried to keep it a secret it was becoming more obvious to everyone. Still, he would never be the one to depend on others. A rock was Robert Pataki.

"Don't use that tone with me little lady or you won't be going anywhere." He growled.

"I'm going _out_!"

"What are you wearing there?"

She tired to hide her feet behind the wall in case he hadn't noticed yet. "A dress Bob. Lots of girls wear them."

"Cut the wise cracks. I don't mean…I mean you just remind me…"

'_If he says Olga_' Helga fumed and balled her fists, '_I swear, I'm gonna lose it._'

He hesitated and Helga noticed he was watching her with the same look Miriam had on, only now she recognized it as… tenderness? In a dream-like voice he finished, "You look like your mom when we were first going out as youngsters."

Helga hesitated.

"Is that supposed to be some kind of compliment?"

Bob hesitated.

"Well, yeah. You look real good. I dunno…I know I don't say it…often…but I'm just real proud O'you, girl."

They stood together uncomfortably in the front hallway.

Bob coughed, "Is someone picking you up?"

"No. It's not far, I'm just gonna walk."

"Don't do that. It's dark outside. Let me drive you."

"I'm _fine_. I've walked there a million times." She snatched her coat from the closet fighting the urge to say something really disrespectful. The two sides of herself battling furiously as they often did: Who did he think he was offering her help all of a sudden? She was perfectly fine getting there on her own. She could take down any creep in the area including Big Bob himself. She almost told him so when she caught the mist in his eye. He spoke quietly and firmly.

"I can drive you."

She didn't say anything.

"I'll even drop you off a block away so no one will know it's me."

She tested the water. "Don't you have something to do instead?"

She didn't know it but her stare was painful to Bob. He knew he'd been a bad father in the past. Especially to this one. Every once in a while he remembered it- especially when she was forced to remind him to pay her psychiatric bill. When those feelings crept up, he reasoned to himself, he had tried all the conventional means up and down for years but the girl just didn't want to behave. He didn't understand her and she wanted nothing to do with him. Sometimes it was like they lived as roommates in separate apartments instead of as a family in two bedrooms. He never had this kind of trouble with Olga.

She did look like her mother in that dress. And somewhat like his own little sister- long estranged from the Pataki name. That glower and defensive stance all screamed of the times when his sister really got mad. She would plant her hands on her hips and stick out her lower lip defiantly. Only now did it strike him how similar they were. Helga showed that same kind of dominant personality she had.

Despite her (suddenly) beautiful appearance, his first desire was to gain back control of the situation by shouting at her like one of the interns at work. On the other hand, he could see how that would play out. She'd just yell back and storm out the door while he raged to Merriam until his favorite sports team came on. After his wife went to sleep he'd stay up in bed watching until he heard the front door close again signaling her return. He could see himself doing the same thing he did every time she went out, he'd quickly turn off the light and listen for her to pass their door and return to her room. Sometimes her step was light and peppy and sometimes it was slow and heavy. That darn girl. He just couldn't sleep until she was home. Of course, he would _never_ admit that to her.

Even still, he didn't want her to come back with those depressed footsteps again- if he could help it.

He looked her up and down and worked every restraint muscle he had before saying, "No. Now come on and get your coat on." He roughly grabbed his keys off the wall where she had hung them and advanced militantly to the garage.

She blinked and finished wrapping her black windbreaker around her before following.

The ride was quiet which they both preferred. And as she got out he shoved some wrinkled cash into her hands for a taxi back home and said,

"I want the change from whatever's left."

"Thanks…Dad." He grunted a reply.

Bob smiled all the way home. He kissed his wife. For once, Bob was happy to stay up until his daughter returned home. And this time, Miriam waited with him.


	5. Try Them Out

Chapter 5- Try them out.

When Helga walked in, Rhonda was in her face.

"Helga! That dress is…wow…that dress is really CUTE! I mean, it's tres romantique Helga. Where did you get that adorable ensemble?" The colors in the house seemed surreally brighter, the smells and sounds of people rushed her senses the moment she came in the door. Cheerful colors, elaborate decorations, lively conversation, and exotic foods could be seen, smelled, and almost tasted even from the doorway where Rhonda rushed her inside giving her a frenzied feeling.

"Nadine will take your coat- Nadine?"

"Wow Helga! You look great!"

"Uh-Thanks Nadine…" Helga craned her neck trying to see who had already arrived beyond that curved archway and beyond her host but felt herself being pushed from behind.

"Follow me! Over here we have hor'durve tables and fire jugglers. Over there is where you can get your picture taken with-" Helga wasn't listening. It was hard to hear anything specific and to orient herself in this room of lively chaos while Nadine struggled to relieve her of her purse and coat at the same time as marking everything down on a little clipboard, while guests pushed past her in all directions too quickly to identify, and while Rhonda was blabbing on about the enormous new spitting sculpture of herself spewing punch from the top of her birthday cake- a giant flaming "18" just below it. A voice called out her name but Helga couldn't tell where it had come from until she felt tiny hands take her wrist. She was finally released from this craze when the doorbell rang once again signaling a new tour which Rhonda happily obliged.

Helga felt a more than a little pestered because she hadn't seen who was here or if anyone else had noticed her come in, making her five minutes of primping on the doorstep a complete waste. She was disheveled now and her great entrance was ruined but Helga tried to remind herself, there was nothing she could do about it now. With a heaving effort to remain cheerful (and a private threat that she should definitely drop something on Rhonda's first dress of the night-), she shrugged it off.

Helga wasn't surprised to see Phoebe on her arm grinning up at her from ear to ear and looking more like a doll than usual. Helga smirked back down at her and got right to the point.

"So, whose here already?" Maybe her little informant would know something.

"I'm not sure Helga. I'll show you where everyone is and we'll see." In her excitement, Helga let herself be dragged through the already large group of adolescents forming around the DJ booth.

Gerald looked up from his set up when Phoebe approached. He beamed at her and then noticed Helga following. His smile didn't falter.

"Hey Helga!" he called over the crowd.

"Hey G-Gerald! It's a lot of idiots here already. Am I late?"

"Naw, if you're late then I'm late. And I'm never late. I'm always right on time." With a swagger he'd perfected years ago, Gerald slid his arm around his girlfriend and leaned down so she could give him a small kiss on the cheek and speak in his ear. Helga could just make out what she was saying.

"We're going to wander around for a while and see who's here. I'll be back a little later with a plate for you. Is Arnold here yet?" He shook his head and smiled even more broadly as she stood on her toes to kiss him again.

"Thanks Phoebe, I'll see you then- and have fun! And Helga!"

Helga was surprised by being called directly. Normally she and Tall-hair-boy didn't have anything to do with one another outside of mutual acquaintances including Phoebe, school, friends, and interests. So with some curiosity, she turned her head to him when he called.

He gave her a thumbs up and shouted. "Nice dress! You look great!"

She didn't have more than a second to be shocked because Phoebe was already leading her away again.

She got the same reaction from everyone that night- always one way or another associated with her dress. Didn't these dorks know it wasn't the dress that made her different? The praise was so frequent for the next hour that it was like she had a sign on her back saying that she needed to be complimented. At one point she really did worry that something was horribly wrong and checked herself in the bathroom mirror before she was satisfied that nothing was gross or even out of the ordinary- nothing in her teeth, nothing hanging from her shoe, and her acne was non-existent. Had she beaten someone up recently to scare everyone? When had this become OK? It was unnerving.

Her friend encouraged her 'not to be so self conscious' and to 'just have fun'. Not soon enough, everyone arrived and the obnoxious remarks finally stopped. Girls ate food and danced and boys picked up on girls and ate food- sometimes together. Helga and Phoebe had never been the kind of girls who inserted themselves into the middle of these parties but being upperclassmen and so comfortable with their long-time classmates, they kept close to one another and got lost in the rabble of equally jubilant teenagers. Even when a special person with soft blue eyes finally arrived, made a bee-line for his best buddy, and then went to ask someone to dance right away, Helga didn't immediately look up.

She _noticed_ of course. If she hadn't sensed him by instinct, then she knew he'd come in by practicing her eagle-peripheral-vision. Subconsciously, she kept tabs on who he danced with, where he went, and what he ate. (She knew it was sick and sad but no one had to know. She patted herself on the back, in fact, that she had stopped writing it all down.)

Luckily, however, it was a long night and Helga took her friend's advice and enjoyed herself. She didn't need to scowl often, and even accepted a few dances with boys she didn't know and enjoyed leaving them behind the moment the song was over. She ate her share of expensive looking food and talked with a lot of different people.

After Phoebe had left to be with Gerald, Helga was getting tired of entertaining others and started to hunt for refuge.

After searching for a few minutes and ducking a few more on-coming conversations, Helga finally managed to find a chair placed along the wall facing the group of dancers comparable to a mosh-pit. That spiky tuft of blond hair automatically caught her attention.

He was dancing with HER. He professed over and over that he no longer had feelings for Lila and truthfully, he hadn't asked her out for a long time but they were still good friends. Watching him dance with her still put a sick feeling in Helga's stomach. They really did look perfect together. She was petite and polite and smart. Arnold was all of those things. But Helga knew him better. She knew he was more adventurous than Lila, there was more fire in his eyes and less complacency. If he married her they would be happy, Helga argued. If he ever promised himself to her, he would never go back on his word. He'd take care of her and love her until they day they died and Helga loved him all the more for that. His noble intentions, his steadfast promises, all made up the same football headed boy she loved so deeply. So even though that sick feeling didn't leave her, she wasn't completely miserable thinking about it.

Helga reminded herself firmly, she had given up on him. She had been convincing herself for years that Arnold and she were just too different. Helga was riddled with family issues, low self-esteem, and a bossy nature that was hard to control. She just couldn't do that to him. It didn't stop her from dreaming from time to time. She had had a daydream just last week in math class that she was her sitting on a dirty rooftop in the middle of a blackened forest when he came drifting down from a dreary sky. She had imagined that with his gentle smile, he'd extended his hand to her and lifted her up into his Hot-air balloon where they would have many adventures together for the rest of their lives. It was never going to happen. She would make sure of it. So when his head turned in her direction, before his eyes could find her, Helga looked away. What was she thinking? He didn't have a hot-air balloon license…

The night was winding down now and a majority of people was still dancing. The food wasn't diminishing because everyone had had their fill (well, all but Harold who was still shoving fistfuls of ruffles into his trap while Rhonda was shaking her fist at him and shouting in vain), and tired feet started to carry the weak ones home. Still there was a good group of partiers in the middle and lots of chatting and mirth all around. Helga relaxed back into her chair happy she had found some personal solace in a public place, just listening to a good song and the laughter of her life-long friends all around her. With a heavy silver fork, she was playing with a slice of cheesecake she had taken earlier. She wasn't really hungry but she never got cheesecake at home so, why not take advantage of it while you can?

She had just started to make criss-crossing patterns in the top layer and lightly sing to herself the words to the song that had barely begun to play. It was a good one and she was engrossed in her fork-patterns, letting her worry and aggravation dissolve. How perfect then, when she was thus unprepared, that Arnold chose that moment to swoop in from the crowd and playfully collapse into the chair beside her. A chunk of cake she didn't remember eating suddenly lodged in her throat to stop her from speaking and she almost dropped her fork making an unpleasant clattering noise against the plate. If Arnold had noticed, he didn't care. And it didn't stop him from inclining that beautiful football head toward her and grinning, the near-by lamp emphasizing that he was a bit sweaty from dancing so hard.

"Hey Helga!"

"Oh, H-hey Arnold."

"You having fun?"

Her mind whirled as it caught up with the situation. She silently begged him to leave her alone at the same time deliberated about how to make the most of this. Her logic calculated it would be best just to end the conversation as quickly as humanly possible; the longer they stayed talking, the higher the likelihood she would say something to ruin a good moment.

She shouldn't have worried because to her surprise, he didn't wait for an answer. Instead he wisely interrupted as she drew breath (for a smug retort, no doubt), to say something Helga thought so sweet and so insanely thoughtful- Helga lost her breath.

It was,

"Nice shoes."

…

She gawked. Her mouth drooped a little agape. He didn't seem to mind the silence from her. There was enough noise around them to fill the gap. She blinked and snapped her mouth shut- her mind was completely, desperately, and horribly blank.

She had no choice but to follow dumb intuition.

The shoes, he said something about the shoes so she should say something too. She nervously tugged on a strand of hair behind her ear and (with a little more force than was necessary,) kicked out one of her shapely legs before the both of them to display the foot and it's wrapping to full advantage.

Come to think of it, she hadn't really looked at them since she first arrived. It took only a second staring and Helga realized why she liked these shoes so much. In that instant, her classic defensive anger, her panic, and pride seemed to melt away beyond those toes. Like a woman studying her nails, she tipped the foot left and right, up and down, before tilting her head toward him and saying something at last.

"They're new. I think I like 'em but they're kinda hard to dance in so I probably won't wear them out again."

"Really? That's too bad."

She shrugged. "I guess. I don't go out that often anyway, it's no big deal if they don't get used a lot." For a second she thought he was leaving her. His gaze had drifted beyond the shiny red ribbon's fabric to the dancers beyond and when he abruptly jumped from his seat- Helga's heart fell. Her eyes rose to watch him go and she sheepishly pressed her knees together so he could slip past her… but he didn't run away. In fact, Arnold decidedly turned to face her with one hand in his back pocket and the other, like a reenactment from her balloon dream, extended palm up, indicating that she should take it.

If enough empty time had past, she would have thought this WAS a dream except for the fact that he, again, spoke first.

"C'mon, let's try them out." And with a enormous grin which pinched his normally half-lidded eyes, he asked her to dance.

_In crowed rooms, he sets me free;_

_A gentle hand, meant just for me._

Arnold was too used to Helga's strange behavior to wonder why it took her so long to take his hand or why it took her some time to really get into the song and dance like she was happy. But when they finally got to climax and the beat was at its fiercest, Helga shone like a star. This was the Helga he knew existed. So for her, he danced with all his might too. They screamed the words at each other and jumped in the air when the singer told them to. He put his hand on her waist and she threw her wrists in the air. There was nothing ungentlemanly or lewd about it and Helga couldn't have been happier in that moment than if he had knelt down and confessed his love to her. This was all she had ever wanted. She felt so normal and free. And the thing that brought her this happiness she knew was- her shoes.

She never did wear them again, partially because it wasn't a lie to say she didn't have many places to wear them and even when she did, the memory of his hand in hers compelled her to put them away again and keep them sacred. If Arnold had known that he had doomed those shoes to a life of perfection rather than partying hard, he perhaps, would have been sorry for what he'd done. But Helga kept those shoes safe for all the time she had them for. They got lost and fell though the cracks of life at some point, in the years to come, Helga did have many happy memories to replace that one, but when she came home that night she held them tenderly to her heart after removing their grandeur from her regular feet.

Seeing them reminded her of the girl she really _meant_ to be- strong and beautiful, daring, and honest. All the way true. Year by year and day by day Helga was genuinely working to be better and live up to those shoes; as a loving sister, a good best friend, a helpful chum, and a grateful daughter.

And liked.

-perhaps _at last_, by herself…and possibly Arnold.


End file.
